


noisy like my heart (till morning come)

by takumicore



Category: JO1 (Japan Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, age gaps reworked to fit my needs and my needs only, and oh my god they were classmates, baseball boy takumi and dance team ren, junki and keigo are the emotional backbones of this fic, just some well cooked pining, kind of beta'd? we alpha like men, medium-slow burn?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29812191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takumicore/pseuds/takumicore
Summary: “um, well,” for a split second ren, much to takumi’s surprise, lookscaught. his eyes flicker over to their teacher entering the class, and he leans over, cupping one hand near his mouth like he’s about to share a secret, “it’s kind of on purpose.”
Relationships: Kawanishi Takumi/Kawashiri Ren
Comments: 15
Kudos: 21





	noisy like my heart (till morning come)

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to [ren's](https://twitter.com/JUNON_jp/status/1297116194017669120) and [takumi's](https://twitter.com/JUNON_jp/status/1297474438175178752) junon vids for kickstarting this idea back in AUGUST  
> i'm a human disaster of a fic writer  
> also special thank you to two close friends for keeping me going with this thing 💕

one would think that after being classmates and fairly close friends with ren for around two years, takumi would have stopped stealing glances at him during class and thinking that ren was the prettiest person he’s ever seen. however, takumi’s a simple boy who caught (embarrassingly intense) feelings, and the current seating assignment isn’t helping his case in the _slightest_.

usually, the draw for seat numbers at the beginning of each term would leave them sitting on opposite sides of the room, or ren a few seats behind. and while that rarely stopped takumi’s eyes from flicking in ren’s general direction during breaks, he could at least maintain an _illusion_ of focus in class. come the new term, however, luck decides to laugh in the face of both him and his grades.

he draws the seat in the middle of the window row, right behind a classmate he’s never really talked to, but she’s on the basketball team and tall and broad enough that he could easily tuck himself away on his desk to wistfully daydream or squeeze in a quick nap (juggling school, baseball, and a weekend part-time job is starting to reflect on his sleep schedule, or lack thereof). or so he _thinks_ , because very soon after ren greets him with a bright “looks like we’re finally seat neighbours, takkun,” and slides into the chair onto takumi’s right. his initial reaction is the usual “i’ll be in your care,” coupled with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, because who wouldn’t, really, when sitting next to someone you perhaps want to hold hands with, except then he has the dreadful realisation of what this actually… entails. and it entails a _lot_.

it’s not that ren’s a distraction in class per se, he’s a diligent student who doesn’t want to cause trouble in case it interferes with his dance team activities, but he’s also, well, a natural distraction. takumi finds out too quickly how easy it is to lean his chin on his hand and tilt his head just so he _seems_ like he’s watching the teacher scribble equations on the board, but in reality, he’s sneaking looks at ren. there’s the little habits takumi notices, like how he fiddles with his pen when he’s thinking, or scrunches his nose when he doesn’t quite get something, or how instead of erasing a mistake he crosses it out with two lines–

basically, he has realisations. many of them.

(not that he hadn’t had them before – they’ve been friends since they realised at the beginning of high school that their names are next to each other on basically every list they could find, they usually go home together after dance and baseball practice is over, they’ve hung out on many weekends, he’s had enough _oh_ -inducing epiphanies to last him a life time – but usually he isn’t faced with them _repeatedly_. over the course of several hours. every day. for _weeks_.)

and then there’s what takumi can best describe as the book thing.

sometimes, ren will lean over towards his desk right before class starts and ask, “sorry, takkun, can i borrow your book?”. the first few times it’s a reasonably innocent request, even perfectionist extraordinaire kawashiri ren must have his off days – except it keeps happening. not frequent enough to make takumi think ren’s being sloppy, but frequent enough to be… suspicious. he tries not to read (ha) too much into it, for the sake of his own feelings and sanity, but there’s this nagging feeling that maybe there’s a purpose behind it.

which is probably why, after ren asks to lend a textbook for the third time that week, takumi blurts out, “you forget your things a lot recently.” he only then realises that sounds slightly too blunt even for him, and tries to soften it with a nervous chuckle. “not that i mind sharing, but…”

“um, well,” for a split second ren, much to takumi’s surprise, looks _caught_. his eyes flicker over to their teacher entering the class, and he leans over, cupping one hand near his mouth like he’s about to share a secret, “it’s kind of on purpose.”

takumi stares, stunned, but the class president tells them all to stand up and bow before he can properly reply, and his mind is left a jumbled mess for the rest of the day.

* * *

actually, make that the rest of the _week_.

he wanted to bring it up when they were on the train back home – really, he did! – but they bump into junki, an old friend of ren’s who goes to a different high school (when takumi first heard which one, he asked _wait, you’re that smart?_ and then apologised for half an hour for being rude). it feels too awkward to bring the book thing up around a third party, so instead he stays quiet and listens to junki and ren bicker, pretending the ugly feeling in his stomach as the two laugh at inside jokes is simply ill-timed motion sickness.

after that, it feels like an unspoken expiration date on asking what ren meant has passed, so he just… doesn’t. if takumi tries hard enough, he can probably shrug it off as a joke, or as friendly banter, or as him projecting his own feelings onto ren. and takumi tries very hard.

except ren is making all that effort basically null and void. he’s not sure if he’s overly conscious about things that have very little meaning, maybe pining for so long is messing with his perception, but sometimes – just a little – he feels like something in their dynamic… changed. shifted. and he’s not sure where, exactly.

it starts when shosei, an underclassman from the dance team whom ren accidentally took under his wing, sits with them during lunch. it’s not that unusual, they usually chat about ideas for performances or share clips of whatever k-pop choreography they’re trying to learn in their spare time; although takumi has picked up some technical terms here and there, the flow of the conversation tends to lose him. that, and he sometimes gets distracted by how endearingly excited ren gets about fancy footwork or clever transitions.

(if takumi really thinks about it, it’s kind of a pattern – whenever a third person joins, he backs off from the discussion, only really talking if he’s addressed directly. he’s always been more of a listener than a talker, but he’s had no problems inserting himself into chats between his teammates, so why would ren and _his_ friends be any different?

his mind suggests one night, quite crudely, that he feels undeserving of any more of ren’s attention than he already gets; but instead of trying to unpack that, he smashes his face against the pillow and tries to go back to sleep.)

ren’s showing him a fancam on his phone – it’s a girl group, and the choreography makes takumi’s shoulders hurt just from _looking_. he’s kind of glad the girls have more stage presence in their little finger than he’ll ever have, since he can actually focus on the performance and not at how the other is pressed unusually closely against his side, ren’s free hand somewhere between his side and the small of his back, and although it’s chilly outside he feels warm warm _warm_.

“there’s plenty of space on the bench, why are you both so huddled together?” shosei finally asks from his seat opposite them, taking a bite of the cafeteria bread. he makes it sound casual, but takumi’s been acquainted with shosei long enough that he can _hear_ the smug smirk in the younger’s voice, god damn it, and it makes the tips of his ears burn.

ren laughs in reply, but it sounds nervous, forced, flustered. “you’re right, my bad,” and then he’s shuffling to make space between them, something that even _shosei_ seems surprised by. he mouths a _sorry, takumi-san_ , yet all takumi can do is shake his head that it’s nothing and ignore how cold his side feels.

* * *

they bump into junki on the train again a few days after that, and he boards just as ren is fiddling with takumi’s scarf, insisting he should wear it properly in case he catches a cold.

(he’s not sure if he’s grateful or mad at junki for interrupting.)

unlike the usual routine of the two childhood friends squabbling while takumi quietly observes, ren gets off a few stops earlier to run errands for his mom. it’s not the first time they’ve talked alone, just the two of them, so it’s not that big of a deal; that is, until junki turns to him with a glint in his eye the moment the train doors close behind ren.

“so, you and ren,” he starts, a teasing lilt in his tone that fills takumi with dread, “how’s it been between you two?”

 _damn it_. the fact that his crush is obvious enough even to someone he sees once a week at _best_ is just a bit humiliating.

“we’re– we’re fine? as friends usually are?” takumi’s almost glad that by this station, the carriage tends to be empty. he really doesn’t need salarymen and middle schoolers eavesdropping on his love struggles.

“aw, boo, you don’t need to hide it from me!”

“i’m not hiding anything, though,” he insists, fingers tightening around the train handle as it slowly comes to a halt. telling convincing lies has never been his forte but the least he can do is _try_ , especially since he’s a mere three stations away from escaping.

“come on, takumi! it’s not like anyone with eyes wouldn’t know you’d switch that _nishi_ to a _shiri_ if you could.”

“th-that doesn’t mean _ren-kun_ has to know!” to his horror, his voice cracks mid-way like the second coming of puberty. junki’s squinting at him pointedly and takumi can hear the gears in his head churning, so he looks away and hides into his muffler, finding great interest in the kitkat wrapper a few inches away from his shoe. it’s matcha-flavoured, the kind ren hates, and _he_ hates how that’s his first thought.

“oh my god,” junki finally says after a pregnant pause, eyes widening, “you two aren’t dating.”

“of course not, how could i– i could _never_ ,” 

“why?”

it’s a simple, but loaded, question, and takumi doesn’t know how to reply.

rather, he knows, but saying it out loud – that he doesn’t want to risk their friendship for a rejection, that he’s not good enough for ren, that he’s being greedy enough already – feels… humiliating, really. what would it even achieve, aside from making junki feel bad?

“i just _can’t_ ,” is the best he can manage, sounding more small and defeated than he’d ever intended, and he pretends he doesn’t see just how miffed – disappointed? – the other looks, “please don’t tell him anything?”

“...fine, i won’t, stop with the puppy eyes - don’t argue with me, you look like an abandoned cat,” junki scoffs, pointing an accusatory finger when takumi tries to defend himself. he doesn’t do it on purpose, damn it. “ _however_ , i think you should tell him!”

“how, um– how would you know?”

asking that leaves a bad taste in his mouth, a self-deprecating tang heavy in his throat. he’s obviously baiting junki and his loose tongue for any sort of hint, any confirmation that no, takumi isn’t going crazy, the way ren’s hands lingered at the edge of his muffler means _something_. part of him feels guilty about using junki like this; the other argues that he brought it up in the first place.

junki strokes his chin, as if considering what is safe to share, and takumi’s heart is about to burst out of his chest.

“for one, i’ve known him since we were kids, and he’s never fixed _my_ scarf while looking at me like i hanged the moon and stars.” junki sounds exasperated despite (or because of?) the smirk on his face. takumi almost asks him to go on, but he looks towards the closing doors of the train and blinks, “hey, wasn’t this your stop?”

“ah, _crap_ ,”

* * *

although practice still sometimes feels off since the third years officially left the team after the summer, they’re slowly coming into their own, filling the gaps with hours of gruelling practice. takumi’s been on the first string for a while now but only recently became a starter, and with the excitement of finally reaching top 8 at summer nationals still hot on their heels, the position is both exhilarating and pressuring.

(he knows how easily one mistake can ruin everything, saw it first-hand from the dugout. one slip up in the outfield at the bottom of the eighth inning turned their two-run lead into a three-run loss and all left for them was to tell the opposing team to win the tournament, for their sake.

the team they lost to placed third, and takumi sometimes wonders about what-ifs and would-have-beens so late into the night it bleeds into dawn.)

they’re doing practice drills all afternoon, the coach yelling out situations to add pressure – two outs, full count, runner just stole a base, bottom of ninth, the likes. when it’s takumi’s turn to bat, there are runners on first and second base, one out after a failed steal, and the fielders all moved closer in case of a bunt. before he steps in the batter’s box though, he kneels to tie his shoelaces, and that’s when their catcher, mame – _issei_ , he can hear in the back of his brain – chats him up.

“kumi-san,” takumi has half a mind to correct him that that’s takumi-senpai to him, but when has the younger ever respected hierarchy, anyway. “your boyfriend is on the bleachers.”

“he’s _not_ my boyfriend,” takumi hisses out in panicked denial, but whips his head around to look regardless, and sure enough – ren’s sitting on the bleachers, bangs tied up to resemble an apple stem. even from the field he can see the fine sheen of sweat on ren’s forehead, which means dance practice must’ve ended early, which in turn means ren came here to _wait_ for him. his chest swells with joy, just a bit.

they make eye contact; ren shyly waves and takumi waves back, biting back a smile. he’s used to playing in front of audiences, but the fact that it’s only ren watching floods his veins with a fresh rush of adrenaline.

it’s issei’s voice that brings takumi back to earth like a bucket of cold water. “i like how you knew i was talking about kawashiri-senpai,” he’s being straight up cheeky now, fully aware that he has a point takumi can’t argue against, especially not out in the field like this.

“mame, i swear–”

“batter up!”

neither of them want to piss off the coach in fear of running laps, so takumi sighs and taps the tip of the bat against his heels – a good luck charm of sorts – before stepping into the batter’s box. 

the first pitch thrown his way is _mean_. it’s a screwball that breaks away from him, just barely misses the strike zone, and the only reason he hasn’t swung is because he’s _too_ used to keigo’s pitching. well, maybe except the slider, since keigo’s only recently started working on that one, but that’s just details.

“nice pitch!” issei calls out and throws the baseball back to keigo; the brazen tone to the younger’s voice and keigo’s cheeky cat smile make takumi realise that _oh_. that screwball had been on purpose, hoping he’d jump the gun and swing the bat at a pitch that was clearly a ball. a _challenge_ in front of ren who, by all means, can’t tell apart a fastball from a curveball.

he watches keigo start his wind up and thinks, _it’s on_.

(he hits a home run.)

* * *

“i wish i could come watch baseball practice more often, it looks fun!”

 _me too,_ takumi idly thinks, taking a sip of his milkshake. practice ended maybe an hour after he hit a home run that surprised even himself, and he left the clubroom to find ren waiting by the water fountains. it’s rush hour and neither of them are excited at the prospect of being tuna canned into a train, so when ren suggests they go grab something to eat ( _i’ll treat you, takkun_ ), takumi only barely pretends to hesitate.

being students, they can’t afford more than cheap burger sets at a local fast food joint, squished at a table so small their knees occasionally knock together. 

“you already come to some of our games, though.”

“yeah, but that’s different! it’s like trying to compare dress rehearsal to a performance,” ren finishes the sentence with a bite into his burger, cheek round as he chews, “by the way, can i have your milkshake for a second?”

“my _milk_ shake?” the question catches him off guard almost as much as ren’s knee pressing against his thigh, “didn’t you say milk is a, um, disgrace to foods as a whole.”

“it _is_ ,” ren insists with a pout, “but junki keeps bothering me about how fries dipped in milkshake are really good, and he won’t let me live until i try, so…”

“ _so…_ you wanted to hang out as an excuse to try junki-kun’s weird food combos?” he’s teasing, for most part. the remaining part however is still hung up on his conversation with junki a few days prior – _he’s never looked at me like that_ imprinted in takumi’s mind, big and bold against the inside of his eyelids – and he’s curious.

(of _what_ he’s curious is a different demon entirely; how does one admit to themselves, in good conscience, that they want to be just a little more important to someone than their childhood friend?)

“what? no, no, that wasn’t…”

“it’s fine! i’m kidding,” takumi reassures (he shouldn’t be this pleased, he _shouldn’t_ ), passing ren whatever remains of his strawberry milkshake. he’s pretty sure he can hear ren huff a displeased _meanie_ under his breath. “here, knock yourself out.”

ren claps in thanks and pops the lid off the paper cup, tilting it so he can dip one of the longer french fries inside. it looks nowhere near appetising, artificial pink against bright yellow, but it gives takumi an excuse in case ren catches him staring at his lips while he pops the food in his mouth. he half-expects ren to spit it out immediately, but the older furrows his eyebrows while chewing instead.

“it’s not... bad. but it’s not good?” if takumi squints, he can probably see question marks floating around ren’s head, and it’s _cute_. he’s distracted enough he almost gets poked in the nose with the fry ren holds up to his face.

“wha–”

“try it, takkun!”

the way ren’s holding it leaves takumi little choice but to eat it from his hand, carefully leaning in to grab the french fry between his teeth. he avoids eye contact, in his best attempt to play it off as casual affection between friends; there’s a twisted comedic irony somewhere in takumi always teasing their team’s manager, ruki, for losing his mind over sharing water bottles with the now-ex-captain sho, yet now doing the exact same thing when it involves ren.

“...i’ve always thought junki-kun is weird, but this is something else.” like ren said, it’s not _bad_ – the sweet and salty flavours almost compliment each other, in a way – but the principle of dipping fries in a milkshake throws him off enough that takumi’s not sure if he likes it or not.

“right?” he giggles, the kind that makes his face light up and eyes crinkle, and takumi wishes he had an iota of sho’s poeticness to express how ren has all the stars in his eyes. instead, all he has is a dry mouth and an erratic heart as they clean up their table and head back to the station.

“um, thanks for treating me, by the way,” takumi says after a lull in the conversation, soft against the rattling of the train. there aren’t many people aboard at this hour, but they’re still standing close enough he could easily count ren’s eyelashes (and he always gets distracted by the eighth). “if you ever want me to treat you, or something–”

“it’s nothing, don’t worry about it!”

“but…” he’s torn between saying _i don’t like feeling indebted,_ and _it’s not fair that only i get spoiled,_ and _it gives me an excuse to spend time with you_. all of it ends up dying in his throat, and he chews on the inside of his cheek instead.

“think of it as a reward for that home run, everyone seemed really impressed,” ren laughs, and takumi can’t help but straighten his shoulders in pride. though he has a few runs batted in, being a cleanup hitter isn’t exactly his forte (what _is_ , really?), so scoring such a good hit off of _keigo_ makes his heart swell. and if the validation that his hard work is paying off feels just a smidgen sweeter because it happened in front of ren, well – that’s his own business.

“i’m a starter now, i can’t be slacking off in front of the juniors!” he boasts with joking bravado, tilting his chin up even when ren breaks out into another fit of giggles. it’s so, so easy to make him laugh and takumi revels in the sound every time.

“you sure you weren’t just showing off, takkun?”

the bravado falters. 

“i–” his brain-to-mouth filter also falters, apparently, because he blabbers out: “kind of, ‘cause of you,”

“oh,” ren breathes out after a beat of silence, “that– that’s, um...”

he trails off, both of them too embarrassed to speak until the voice over the intercom announces the next stop, the one where ren gets off, and takumi wants to _scream_. 

“i-i’ll see you on monday, takkun?”

“yeah, i, see you,” he keeps his cool (or tries to) until the train leaves the station, then thunks his head against the window.

* * *

usually, takumi tends to solve his problems on his own. it’s not that he would bite a helping hand if offered, but he feels guilty asking for one in the first place – he’s got limbs that work well enough for him to pull himself up.

this approach, however, is leading him in circles in the ren debacle. it’s saturday evening and instead of doing homework after a shift at his part time job, takumi’s glancing at his phone, debating whether or not he should message first. he’s not much of a texter in the first place, so it’d seem out of character to chat ren up with something as dull as a _wyd?_ , but he’s too much of a coward to ask _what’s going on between us?_ , and he can’t think of anything else to excuse starting a conversation... or maybe he’s just overestimating how much ren would actually care?

staring at the line chat with ren – the last message being a good night on thursday – is taking him nowhere, so he exits out and, after a brief moment of hesitation, opens junki’s.

[21:17] kirbynishi: junki-kun?

[21:22] juncarbonara: Takumi!!!! Whats up :D

[21:22] kirbynishi: can I ask something

[21:23] juncarbonara: Is it homework again

[21:25] kirbynishi: .no um. its about ren-kun actually

[21:25] juncarbonara: :o Shoot!

[21:31] kirbynishi: ..did you mean it when you said I should confess??

[21:32] juncarbonara: OMG PLEASE YES JUST DO IT

[21:32] juncarbonara: YOU TWO ARE DRIVING ME INSANE

[21:33] juncarbonara: I was telling him for months to try fries with milkshake and he tells me he tried it with you!!! And IM his childhood bff >:

[21:38] juncarbonara: Since youre quiet yes he bragged about it and how well you play baseball. If I have to thirdwheel any longer Ill tell him myself!!!

[21:40] kirbynishi: oh

[21:40] kirbynishi: ill... try i think thanks junki-kun

[21:44] kirbynishi: also youre good at math right??

junki blocks him.

(then unblocks him, calls him an opportunistic ass, and helps him with his homework anyway.)

* * *

for the first time since becoming aware his feelings for ren run deeper than just friendship, takumi starts seriously considering how to confess. it’s been a fleeting thought here and there over the past year – he might have imagined what it’d be like to intertwine fingers with ren under the library table, or to hook his chin on ren’s shoulder while he played games on his switch, sure – but he’s always stifled it with his lacking self-esteem and general pessimism. so now that he’s actually putting thought into it, he realises he has no idea what to actually _do_.

most confession scenes in the shoujo manga he borrows from ruki are so dramatic and larger-than-life, but that’s not _him_. he’s bad enough at verbalising his feelings as is, and anything grandiose or public would make him (ren too, presumably) wither and die of embarrassment. on the other hand, he doesn’t want it to be too bland or casual in case his _i like you_ comes across as platonic, and, basically, he’s lost.

come monday morning, he tentatively gives himself a week to figure something out; enough time to subtly ask around for advice, but (hopefully) not enough for him to overthink it and back out. he brainstorms who to ask while running laps during morning practice and his first choice is fairly obvious.

though their pitcher dedicates most of his time to being the resident goofball, keigo’s still sharp at reading people, _and_ has had a fair share of romantic encounters. takumi can easily catch him in the clubroom to talk and get away without… _too_ much teasing. well, certainly not as much as issei or shosei.

“keigo-kun,” he starts, after most of the team has filtered out to their classrooms, “can i ask you something?”

keigo hums, looking at takumi through the mirror as he does his tie, “sure, is something wrong? you acted kinda off during practice.”

“oh, um–” on hindsight, he should’ve expected that keigo’s sharpness applies to _him_ , too, “i, hypothetically speaking, if – if i wanted to _confess_ , maybe, to someone… do you have any, like– advice?”

when takumi looks up – he’s too nervous to even attempt eye contact, sue him – keigo’s turned towards him with a hand covering his mouth like he’s holding back a laugh. “you’re _finally_ asking ren out?”

“no!” he instinctively retorts with his shoulders hunched up, then pouts when keigo lets out a bark of laughter, “ _fine_ , yes. i have no clue how, though.”

“write _will you date me_ on a baseball and throw it at his head, duh.”

takumi _blanches_. “i don’t want to give him a concussion!”

“you could carry him to the nurse’s office and offer to kiss it better?” he whips back, wiggling his eyebrows, and takumi feels an impending stress headache. both from dealing with the keigo and from imagining ren comfortably nestled into his back. keigo must notice him struggling and chuckles, patting his shoulder. “you’re overthinking it! just go for it, honestly.”

“that doesn’t help at all,” he groans, “what if i mess up? what if he thinks i’m just being friendly? what if he pretends to think that so he doesn’t have to hurt my feelings–”

keigo interrupts his tangent by draping himself over takumi, his chin resting on the top of takumi’s head, “do an interpretive dance! he should get that, right?”

“oh my god, you’re the _worst._ ”

* * *

in the end, keigo does give him some tips – be genuine, straight to the point, maybe get some chocolates, ask ren to hang out after school and take him somewhere pretty, but quiet. it sounds like a decent enough plan, he just needs to _find_ a place like that.

other than that, nothing special happens for the rest of the day – shosei joins them for lunch, ren borrows a book in class, ruki gets distracted when the third years (sho) drop by practice – but he _does_ have a substantial list of nice places at the back of his notebook. it’s mostly nearby parks, a few local coffee shops they sometimes go to on weekends, and the one hill near a shrine that overlooks the city.

his mind is buzzing with ideas even on the way back home and he’s so preoccupied he barely notices ren waving his hand in front of takumi’s face.

“earth to takkun? anyone home?” he’s smiling, but there’s a tinge of concern that makes takumi feel warm.

“i’m fine! i’m fine, sorry. just tired. you were saying?”

“nothing important, don’t worry.” the door dings open and more people file into the train. both of them shuffle closer together, until their shoulders meet. “i was just wondering out loud about the science homework for tomorrow.”

takumi blinks. right, homework. he’s pretty sure science class is when ren borrowed his book and when _he_ zoned out the hardest, mulling over the logistics of taking ren to the hill in time to watch the sun set (the answer is maybe, if they power walk), so whatever the teacher had said about homework went in one ear and flew out the other. “...i forgot about that. thanks,”

“i figured, you looked spaced out.” ren chuckles as another crowd of people fills the train. takumi feels someone push at his back but before he can even _react_ , ren’s casually wrapping his arm around takumi’s waist and pulling him closer. “is everything ok?”

“y-yeah, i’m good!” he chokes out, then clears his throat when ren gives him a questioning look. why is he friends with so many perceptive people? “really, it’s nothing, promise. um, dad wanted me to pick something up on my way home – wanna come with?”

ren regards him for a few seconds, but thankfully drops the topic, giving takumi a grin and a nod instead. “sure, sounds fun!”

* * *

they end up going to the arcade (and losing an embarrassing amount of money on claw machines, although ren _did_ end up winning him a korilakkuma that’s sitting comfortably on his bed), so by the time takumi finally sits down to start on assignments, it’s late enough his household is winding down for the day. up until recently he’d still hear noises from his brother’s room, but now that he’s started university, all he’s left with is rustling of paper and faint whirring of the dishwasher downstairs.

in true procrastinator fashion takumi leaves science for last, and when he pulls the textbook onto his desk, he realises there’s something stuck between the pages. at first he thinks ren must’ve left a note or maybe a bookmark in it – probably a hint for the homework – except when he opens the book, it’s anything _but_.

it’s an envelope.

pastel pink, with his name written on the back, and a familiar little bowl-cut character drawn underneath.

he pinches himself to check if it’s a dream.

* * *

it’s not.

in fact, takumi doesn’t really get to dream that night; rereading the letter enough times that he’s almost got it memorised leaves him awake until the birds start singing outside his window. thankfully he forces himself to power nap before his alarm goes off, and he’s too giddy to feel the sleep deprivation creeping up his back – though that’s probably also owing to the outrageously strong coffee he’d downed before going out.

frankly – it still doesn’t feel real.

the letter is sweet, heartfelt – it briefly recounts the start of their friendship, how they got closer, the moment he realised he likes takumi, the things he likes _about_ takumi – it’s so, so much, and it ends with an oddly formal request (then again, he probably would’ve worded it similarly) for takumi to consider his feelings, even if he needs some time before answering, along with ren’s name at the bottom of the page.

 _ren’s_.

all the emotional turmoil he went through over the past weekend (over the past _year_ ), only for ren to beat him to the punch with a letter hidden in his textbook. it’s kind of laughable, and he can’t help wondering how much earlier this would’ve happened if they weren’t both massive _cowards_.

it only dawns on him half-way through practice, however, that now he needs to find a way to properly – and quickly – respond to the confession. it probably wouldn’t be until lunch or after school, but they have classes together, how is he supposed to behave around ren till then? should he acknowledge the letter and say they’ll talk later, or should he act like nothing’s happened? perhaps he should hurry up while changing and rush to catch ren before class, or text him to meet him behind the sports equipment shed with rusty doors no one uses anymore, or–

“kawanishi, focus! you’re batting next!”

“yes, sir!”

he’ll have to figure it out later.

* * *

it soon turns out that fate either has a plan or wants to see him fail, because throughout the entire day, he barely has a chance to speak to ren.

the other is almost late to class, and they only have time to exchange a good morning before the teacher starts the lesson. their small talk during breaks feels awkward, _stilted_ – like they’re both walking on eggshells – and ren almost looks relieved when underclassmen takumi vaguely recognises from the dance team borrow him out of the room. he’s nowhere to be seen during lunch, either; for the first time since ren twisted an ankle last year and had to stay home for a few days, takumi eats on his own.

it’s… weird. a voice in the back of his head tells him that maybe it was a prank, or some kind of mistake, or that ren regretted it – another speaks up that perhaps he’s actually trying to give takumi space to think about it, and isn’t the dance club busy this time of year, anyway? ren mentioned that rehearsals were getting more serious just last week, not everything in his life revolves around _takumi_ , after all.

the giddy buzz in his veins from this morning slowly gives way to unease, gnawing away at the back of his mind until their last class of the day ends and he’s back on the field. their shortstop is out sick, so takumi ends up covering the position during fielding drills. it’s demanding, but he’s almost grateful; it keeps him distracted and focused enough that he can’t overthink without risking a ball to the face.

(it’s happened before, and he does _not_ want to repeat the experience.)

when their coach finally announces a break takumi all but collapses onto the dirt, staring at the sky until keigo blocks the view with a water bottle in hand.

“how’s the weather down there?”

“...i’ll kick you,” he huffs out but sits up anyway, grabbing the bottle and taking a long sip. though the weather is nowhere as oppressive as the humid summer heat, the drills still run them ragged. the taller seems just as tired and plops down next to him, balancing the pitcher’s mitt on his knee.

“sooo…” keigo drawls, knocking an elbow against takumi’s, “how’s your plan to woo ren going?”

takumi freezes, briefly – though he trusts the baseball team, he’s still self conscious someone will overhear – but lets his shoulders droop when he notices everyone’s too busy or exhausted to pay attention to them. if he squints hard enough beyond the dugout, he could probably see the gym where the dance team is practicing right now; it’s almost infuriating, how close yet _far_ ren is.

“i–” he licks his lips, mouth dry despite the half a bottle he just downed, “ren-kun, he, um… he did it first?”

keigo’s back straightens so fast takumi is almost concerned he’ll get a cramp, “he _what_?”

“yesterday, he… left a letter in my book,” he mumbles, fiddling with the bottle until the plastic crinkles under his fingers, “and–”

“you’re dating,”

a statement, rather than a question. oh, to have keigo’s confidence. “not yet? i haven’t– he’s been busy today, i didn’t have when to respond.”

the other gives him an incredulous stare, followed by a sigh. takumi gets it, really – most people probably would’ve gotten this over already, even through a phone call if need be, but he so, so desperately wants to do this _right_ , except he doesn’t even know what doing it right _means_.

“you two have been dancing around each other for so _loooong_ ,” keigo wails and leans back, then snorts, “ha, get it? dancing–”

takumi gives him his best unimpressed expression and pretends he doesn’t find it funny. the last thing their pitcher’s ego needs is to grow any bigger, lest it becomes _sentient._

“that was _awful_.” he scowls, “do you… think i should reply today? we’re going home together, so – hey, are you listening?” keigo isn’t even _looking_ at him, and when takumi follows his line of sight behind the dugout, to the drinking fountains, he quickly realises why keigo isn’t paying attention.

“hey, takumi, wanna fill up my bottle for me? i need to talk something over with mame before break ends.” he shoves it into takumi’s arms with a shameless wink, which would usually be met with an indignant squawk, but today– today he’s scrambling to his feet with a quick _thanks_ before he marches off.

* * *

“...ren-kun?”

he doesn’t startle at the greeting (he never does, sometimes takumi wonders if he feels any fear at all), but he does look surprised to see takumi there, holding onto his and keigo’s bottles for dear life.

“takkun! how’s practice?” though ren’s smiling like usual while using the water fountain, it’s still there – that weird air of awkwardness, a delicate balance that’ll topple if either of them move too suddenly. it makes his throat threaten to close up because he doesn’t know in which direction that balance would _tip_ , but–

“i read your letter,”

–he can’t afford not to try anymore.

“wha– wait, wait–” to takumi’s surprise, ren starts _fumbling_ – stuttering over his words, his face and neck blooming a pink that not even exertion would explain, “n-now? i thought… a few d-days, maybe, or– you can’t just,”

there’s an embarrassed _whine_ to his voice, the same he gets when their friends try to get ren to act cutesy, and the realisation that they _both_ suck at this makes fondness bubble up in takumi’s stomach.

“i read your letter,” he repeats, with more conviction. “and i–”

“n-no, no, it’s okay, you... you don’t have to answer right now? if y-you want, we can forget about it, that’s– _crap_ ,” the bottle he’s filling up overflows and sprays water all over him instead; takumi can’t help but burst into giggles. “takkun, it’s not _funny!_ ”

it kind of is, but right now, that’s neither here nor there.

“ren-kun,” he starts again, then pauses, wondering what to say next. there’s so many things he _wants_ to say – a whole year of feelings he wants to convey – but he knows keigo can only distract their coach for so long, so he settles on the next best thing. “i like you, too.”

“...huh,”

“for a while now, actually, and, um, i was trying to figure out how to tell you, even _junki-kun_ said i should, but… you were faster, so,” takumi tries his best to discreetly wipe his sweaty palms on his uniform. he’s still nervous – it’s taking all of his concentration to maintain eye contact with ren, who’s just blinking at him, stunned – but he feels… lighter, regardless. bolder. “i wanted to reply as fast as i could.”

there’s a beat of silence before ren sets the bottle down under the fountain faucet, taking a step towards takumi. “so it’s… mutual?”

“y-yes?”

“ _oh_.”

* * *

it’s almost funny, how things change so drastically, yet so _little_.

though a faint whistle from the baseball field interrupts and reminds them that they still have prior engagements to return to, they make a hurried promise to go home together – sealed with a squeeze of ren’s hand around his – before parting. there’s a bounce to his step that keigo doesn’t fail to comment on, but he feels so light, so _warm_ that he briefly wonders if spring came early.

that thought is quickly blown away with the next gust of autumn wind, but the chill makes ren fix his muffler when they meet near the water fountains later – the gesture exponentially more heart-fluttering now that he knows it _did_ mean something all along, and it makes takumi chuckle as ren fusses with the material – so he can’t complain.

(especially since he’d wrapped the scarf messily on purpose, but he won’t tell ren _that_. not yet, at least).

the train is packed as always, but for once, he enjoys it without the niggling feeling of guilt under his skin. although ren is centimetres away from stepping on his toes with every shake of the carriage, their pinkies are linked hidden by the sleeves of their blazers, and takumi can’t help grinning behind his muffler every time he remembers that now he’s… _allowed_.

“ren-kun, do you…” he whispers; it’s a few stations later and the crowd has thinned out, but it’s kind of fun to act like they’ve got a secret to protect, “would you want to hang out? at my place?”

there’s an unsaid _i wanna stay together for longer_ that lingers in the air, and judging by the bright smile on ren’s face, the sentiment’s reciprocated. besides, they still need to talk – he has so many things he wants to ask – and with ren’s brothers lurking about, privacy would be basically non-existent.

“does this mean i get the privilege of seeing your room more often now?” ren wonders out loud when they step off the train, eyes crinkling as takumi subtly, yet impatiently, tugs him along.

“wh… you’ve been over before,” he blinks, confused. his room isn’t that special, anyway; ren’s place is cosier, thrumming with life, hence why they usually end up at _his_ house – even if the kawashiri siblings as a collective keep ruthlessly beating him in super smash bros. although it’s not that much of an achievement when takumi barely knows his way around the console.

“i _know_ , but,” ren whines, then lowers his voice with a pout, “now it’s like… a boyfriend privilege?”

takumi barely avoids walking into a street light.

“boyfriend,”

“...right? i thought–”

“yeah! yeah,” he sputters out and tries his best to suppress the butterflies in his stomach. ren’s right; it’s requited, he’s accepted the confession, so that’s what they _are_ – the realisation will just need a minute to fully sink into his brain. it won’t stop him from teasing ren back in the meantime, though. “any other b-boyfriend privileges you want, ren-kun?”

the question sounds innocent enough, but takumi can still see ren’s brain whirring for a few seconds before he turns bright red. “i-i could think of a few?”

* * *

[18:01] kirbynishi: junki-kun

[18:03] juncarbonara: Takumi :D

[18:03] juncarbonara: What math problem do you need help with

[18:04] kirbynishi: its not math!!! just wanted to say thanks

[18:04] juncarbonara: Eh?? For? :O

[18:05] kirbynishi: [ _Attachment: 1 image_ ]

[18:07] juncarbonara: ...ARE YOU CUDDLING???

[18:08] juncarbonara: I cant believe you

[18:08] juncarbonara: Since when is Ren a little spoon?!??

[18:11] juncarbonara: And now youre just going to ignore me… YOURE WELCOME

[18:12] kirbynishi: ^^

**Author's Note:**

> kawashiri "omg we're boyfriends now- OH GOD I CAN KISS HIM NOW OH SHIT" ren
> 
> title from [oh my! by svt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_5PELxP8Udg), whoo
> 
> fun fact: i wrote the "interpretive dance" line as a joke before starlight deluxe, and then they actually did it, and now i'm terrified naoto has gained access to my google docs? and fun fact 2, this was originally meant to be a ~1k word drabble. how the hell this hit 7k i have not a single clue. the renkumi impact
> 
> (oh and guess the fancam they're watching, lmao)


End file.
